A change of place
by hu3long2
Summary: When the push comes to the shove, which way will Renji fall, or will he fall? RenBya angst, possibly the start of a new series, with mixed rating and genre. This particular segment begins with angst, slides into comfort and ends with humour.
1. Chapter 1

Title: I will make you hurt

Characters: Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Zabimaru, Ukitake, Rukia

Word count: ~ 6500

Rating: T+/PG-13, much angst (cutting)

Summary: This is Part 2 to a fic written by lyingfiend, "I will let you down, I will make you hurt", posted on LJ, where Byakuya has asked Renji to hurt him during sex, in order to drive out the pain Byakuya feels over Hisana's death, and to protect Byakuya from future pain by giving him so much physical pain that it will numb him emotionally. Renji does that because he loves Byakuya and fears that if he doesn't, Byakuya will turn away from him and he will be left with nothing of Byakuya, though it goes against all Renji's instincts and his nature. He wants to tell Byakuya to choose a different path, that love can make him forget the pain, but the words won't come. I hope that this portion makes sense, but go read the original at

lyingfiend. livejournal. com/ 52064. html

Disclaimer: I own neither Bleach nor bleach.

Renji tugged uneasily at his shikahausho and knelt at the door. "Taichou."

He drew open the door on hearing the quiet "enter" and slipped inside the room. His taichou knelt on the tatami mats, implements for a tea ceremony in front of him. Renji bowed quietly, then slipped into place, eyeing Byakuya's still profile, the remote eyes, the resolute lips. Busy with his own responsibilities, he had not seen his Taichou in the Division that day, and when he had returned to conclude his shift, only a note in Byakuya's austere calligraphy remained, bidding him to proceed to the Kuchiki Residence. It said nothing of their usual evening rendezvous, and a slight chill had run between Renji's shoulder blades when he read it.

Now, he sat and watched as Kuchiki Byakuya prepared tea and presented it to his only guest of the evening, in the little tea hut that kept at bay the bleeding sunset without and enclosed them in a space that echoed with the reiteration of a strictly regulated practice from time immemorial. It would have been almost spartan, but for the great age of the wood and the plain vase that stood in a central niche, permitting only the solitary and stately nobility of a single chrysanthemum, distillate of two millennium of tradition.

Renji turned the bowl in his hands and sipped his tea, the taste rich and bitter on his tongue as was customary in all his encounters with Kuchiki. Surreptitiously, he watched Byakuya as he tasted his own bowl. He had attended many a tea ceremony with Byakuya, especially at the Soutaichou's pleasure, but he had never been a guest in Byakuya's own ceremonies, nor ever invited to the Kuchiki Residence. His heart thudded suddenly. Surely the invitation had been intended as an honour, and its form, in this exquisite little retreat with the head of the Kuchiki clan himself presiding over the ceremony, one of the most intimate practices in Byakuya's vast social repertoire. Did this suggest that Byakuya would finally acknowledge Renji's gift for what it could be? Would ask of what Renji had in plentiful store to give, rather than demand his due from his leanness? But when he scrutinized Byakuya's demeanor with newly eager eyes, his heart twisted. If perfection did not stint itself, then Byakuya was armoured in greater perfection than ever, one of steel and ice and will. Was this to be his dismissal then? But he had merely been a tool, and there was no reason to treat a tool with such courtesy, even wedded as Byakuya was to duty and pride. Renji's heart tightened further, bloodless in his apprehension.

"Abarai Fukitaichou."

When Byakuya spoke his name, Renji almost shuddered with relief. Perhaps, he prayed, what Byakuya would say would prove balm to the terrors of his imagination. He clutched eagerly onto Byakuya's voice.

"I wish to propose a marriage between you and my sister, Kuchiki Rukia. You will marry into the Kuchiki family, and when you obtained appointment as taichou, you will be recognized as head of a major Kuchiki cadet line."

The words slid over his mind, impossible to grasp initially. When they finally slipped into coherence, Renji found himself plunged into a worse terror. "Marry Rukia?" he croaked. Some species of instinct or training kept his reiatsu tightly leashed- that much concealment, at least, his time with Byakuya had taught him, but beneath the containment, his soul was splintering as acid scoured his heart. How dare Byakuya throw his sister away on a man he regarded as nothing more than his toy! And how dare Byakuya insult him in his obliviousness, in his refusal to recognize that Renji would only rest satisfied in the pursuit of the goals his own soul set?

'Why should he?' whispered a sudden, unbidden voice, 'when you have already betrayed yourself by agreeing to his conditions? What else could he know of you?'

'I hoped...' his mind howled brokenly, '... he could come to...'

'No, you despaired,' was the answering whisper, 'when you turned your back on what you are because you feared. How can he see you but through a mirror darkly when you will not lift its opacity?'

'But he does not want to see me.'

'Ah, that he does not.' The whisper fell into resigned silence on a hushed sigh as Byakuya spoke again.

"You have an affection for Rukia. Marriage to Rukia will assure her position in the clan if her husband is a shinigami of recognized power, while the backing of the Kuchiki will bring you the recognition beyond the Gotei 13 and within Seireitei itself that your unfortunate origins have denied you. When you become a taichou, none of the Kuchiki will oppose your inclusion among the senior members of the clan, indeed, you will do us much honour and your line will claim pride of place even among the Kuchiki."

Renji's mouth fell open. What was this? It was certainly not a bribe on Byakuya's part. Senbonzakura commanded the power to annihilate any threat to him and his. As the last echo of Byakuya's deep, uninflected monotone died away, Renji stared hard at his taichou, at the uncannily serene eyes, the stern lips, the aloof, untouchable cast of expression, and his heart cracked open, spewing emotion as bitter as gall and understanding as inexorable as death. He had never been a sex toy, a whim to achieve release. To Byakuya, he was a warrior, called to an unconventional service, and now, duty admirably performed, Byakuya's strange sense of ruthless duty and unflinching honour demanded that Renji's merit be acknowledged, and that he be offered even greater duties- the protection of his sister and clan. His lips twisted despite his attempts at self-control. This duty he had so reluctantly embraced, to offer pain of the flesh to the man he loved best in three worlds, and so to erase the unceasing pain in his heart, had nearly broken him. Would Abarai Renji disappear if he agreed to the next task? Yet, Kuchiki Byakuya seemed to trust that his strength was equal to it. If, Renji reflected, he did not love, it might have been.

He marveled at his ability to reflect on the situation. Once he would have exploded into bankai, not to test himself yet again against Byakuya, but to obliterate the hurt with his own wounds. Had Byakuya not decided on a similar course? To eradicate long-lived pain with a different, more temporary, pain? They were perhaps more alike than he had thought. His emotions were volcanic and volatile, but he had never engaged in a true fight calm in mind and spirit. That was his key failing, the analytical part of his mind whispered.

'But I'm all het up now, and I'm not whipping out Zabimaru,' he pointed out, 'I'm actually thinking about this.' Perhaps he was becoming a better warrior, his thoughts become detached in some undisturbed and lucid realm distant from the poison of his emotions.

Curiously, he glanced at his hands. They were white with tension, but steady. His bemusement increased as he watched himself bow deeply, thank Byakuya for the honour done to him, and request a leave of absence to consider the offer. It was obtained, and his legs carried him through the Kuchiki Residence, through the streets, and into his apartment in the Sixth Division barracks. Abruptly, he fell boneless to the floor and lost consciousness as the world shifted.

He awoke to the scents of jungle and ash and animal. A sibilant hiss flickered about his ears, and he stared into the yellow gaze of Zabimaru, who was curled up beside him. Suddenly, all sensation returned as awareness slammed into emotion, and the pain of it racked his body and brought bile into his throat as he curled into a tight ball and struggled to contain his breathing before it sent him once again into oblivion. For once, he was unashamed to appear so weak in Zabimaru's eyes.

"Look around you, Renji."

He ignored the injunction, counting each breath as he inhaled and exhaled.

"Look, Renji, and see what you have done to all of us."

The gruff voice held a peculiar and harsh tenderness that scraped down Renji's spine with foreboding. He followed the direction of Zabimaru's voice, and overwhelming shock jerked him upright, all previous pain forgotten.

Renji's world was a lush tropical jungle, well-suited to his nue, heavy with foilage, rich with moisture and the weight of loamy earth, shimmering with an incipient vitality, from the blazing sun that made its way even through the thick canopy and speckled trunks and branches, leaves and grass in bronze and gold and burnt fiery red behind one's eyelids, to the thick undergrowth bustling with the noises of hidden activity, that fed the roots and grew the trees. It was a beautiful, vibrant world.

Now, all Renji could see around him was blight. The canopied layers of forest had disappeared, and only bare wood remained, twisted from disease, destroyed by worms in its very pith, uprooted by storms, split into withered stems by the lightning that struck continuously from the roiling, darkened sky, preceded by the cacophonous rumble of thunder. Even as Renji watched, lightning streaked down, scorching the deep gray clouds to near charcoal, and three separate spots of forest burst into flame, several trees falling over on their sides. Ash flew into the air, wreathing smoke in its wake, and wood sputtered dully on its last gasp of air.

"See what you have done to all of us," repeated the nue, his gaze heavy and solemn.

"When did this begin?" asked Renji wildly, looking about him. The nue did not reply, there was no need. The day and occasion was carved into their spirit.

"Why did you not tell me?" Though the fault lay in him, for attending so indifferently to the soul to which he had once given pride of place.

"We are your soul, Renji, we feel as you do. Especially when it comes to _him_. As long as this green clearing held, we could accept anything you asked of us, and test our strength against it. Today, however, even the heart of this world has begun to fail. Look."

As Renji watched, the patch of grass he and Zabimaru sat on started to wither into nothingness, the soil beneath drying and cracking like pressure applied at too weak a point. Between and around them, sulfurous plumes were belched from the ground. Renji lay a hand on the ground and traced uneasily along the fissures, his fingers translucent through the fumes. Then he got to his feet and paced restlessly around the perimeter of the clearing, Zabimaru padding beside him. He raised his head to the glowering sky, tracking the fall of lightning with his eyes, and the burst of yet another conflagration in the distance.

"Zabimaru!" he said urgently, painfully. "What happens after this?"

"You will still be Abarai Renji and I will be Zabimaru, your zanpakatou. But we draw our strength from each other, and this," the nue gestured comprehensively, "weakens us."

"Lost your fighting spirit?" hissed the snake. "Running away?"

"Never!" replied Renji automatically. Then he shook himself, and replied more strongly, "Never!" He had lessoned himself in determination, and now, for the sake of his very survival, still less could he yield. The devastation around him demanded absolute commitment. He turned in a circle, once again taking in the damage.

"What must I do?" he asked roughly, turning to look at Zabimaru.

Zabimaru returned his look with an inscrutable one. "The heart is yours, you ought to know what to do about it."

All at once, Renji sank to his knees as pain once again engulfed him. The pain of Byakuya's rejection, put aside to face the shock of this second crisis, returned to join the pain of his blighted inner world. For a long moment, he retched dryly with the agony of suffering screaming through nerve and muscle and sinew.

Then, a flicker of will stirred."No," he whispered, gritting his teeth. "On my soul, no. No more." Nursing the flicker, he fed it steadily out of his rapidly dwindling resources.

"Do not resist the pain, you will only locked it away, and it does this world no good to have poison at its center," rumbled Zabimaru. "Embrace it. Revive this world with what you are."

He was Abarai Renji, brash, hot-headed, loyal, who wore his feelings on his sleeve. He cared for Rukia, Ichigo, Hisagi, Kira and Hinamori, Ikkaku and Yumi. He loved Kuchiki Byakuya, who did not love him and never had. He let an eternity of pain sweep through his body, razoring nerve endings to exquisite torment, his torso and limbs seized with tension, twisted by the torture in his soul. And on waves of pain rode the remnants of his will, the last skeins of his awareness that gripped with clenched force the idea of Abarai Renji, locked their jaws on it, on an ocean where it should have found no purchase but for the stubborn wish to survive and survive beyond, though time itself had ceased to matter.

His sweat rained down on the parched earth, which swallowed it eagerly, and if some of it was tears, the ground made no distinction, and sipped just as voraciously on the offered moisture. Renji panted deeply as the first onslaught of agony receded, his hair running in rivulets down his face, his torso bowed over the ground as he rested on his elbows, his panting cracked and harsh.

"More," said Zabimaru. The snake's blood-red eyes glinted and it hissed in agreement.

Suddenly, a miniature sword appeared in his hand, its edge gleaming thinly. It was both Zabimaru and yet not Zabimaru, and in some distant part of his brain, Renji found it perfectly comprehensible that a zanpakatou that knew how to extend also knew how to contract. Then, all extraneous thoughts vanished as the second onslaught of pain began.

This time, more of Renji remained, enough to arrange his will around his limbs and weave the inchoate pain into thoughts stark in their simplicity. 'Many, many years ago, I came to Soul Society and found my home in Rukongai, where men lived like dogs and children died like their flies. I was fortunate and made a family with three boys. We lived for each other and stole for each other and protected each other. But I could not protect them forever and they died. We could not protect each other. We were too weak. I was too weak. But I am glad they were my family. This is for the pain and the joy."

Guided by strange knowledge, he laid three cuts across his left forearm, not so deep as to incapacitate, but at the right angle to bring the most blood. A curl of warmth made its way through the pain and found a place in his soul.

"Rukia did not die, and she led me to the wonder of Seireitei and the Gotei 13. Scarcely a year later, a noble family adopted her and made her their own. I sent her away, into the protection of another family. But she broke a law and her family stood by to watch her die. But she had never ceased to be my family and I could not let her die. I would beg for her life, and I would grow stronger. And I would not let her grow any weaker. Now, though she bears a different name, we have pledged ourselves anew to each other's care. This is for the pain and the joy."

He slashed his left thigh and watched the blood flow richly onto the soil. A tremour shook the earth, and he moved with it, the wickedly sharp sword steady in his hand.

"I met a boy, powerful and sad. I hated him and fought him. I respected his strength, and begged him to use it. Now I fear for his soul and the taint he carries. My great rival, my staunch friend, my cherished comrade, my partner in foolishness. Ichigo the protector, beside whom I stand. This is for the pain and the joy."

The sword grazed his right forearm and bled it in three places. A patch of green reappeared beneath the blood, and the clean fragrance of grass struggled to overcome the noxious smell of sulfur.

"For old friends and brothers-in-arms, in times of war and in times of peace. This is for the pain and the joy."

Five decades of experiences, more memories than Renji could contain in thought. He infused every cut on his right thigh with the terrors shared, the pleasures found, the laughter evoked, the secrets kept, and the fissures in his immediate vicinity closed.

Finally.

"Kuchiki Byakuya." His breath stuttered. "Powerful, proud, and noble. Perfect. I love your beauty and abhor your coldness. I love your coldness and abhor your beauty. You are my particular pain, and if there is joy, it is that I can love so well in my unwisdom. But not even for you will I destroy Abarai Renji. I bore your bankai once, and lived, because you were merciful. Perhaps you were merciful today. Now receive my heart's blood, that this wound might heal well. This is for the pain and the joy."

Agony pierced him, unfurling from the threefold slash over his left breast, and every inadequacy, every distance, every doubt, every rejection experienced from his first meeting with Byakuya converged upon him at the same time, five decades of pain that played in an infinite loop in the theater of his soul. Around him, lightning struck the ground in rapidly increasing intensity, searing, burning, with a static charge that would have staccatoed over his skin could he but feel it.

"Enough."

The word sounded like a clarion bell of clarity, and Renji slumped over, drawn and stricken.

"What are you now?"

Holding onto the question like a lifeline, Renji dove blindly through the relentless barrage of memory and emotion, indictment and condemnation. The storm howled about his ears, and confounded his senses, whipping them with strikes that were as deadly as they were non-corporeal. Renji curled more deeply into himself as every sense was flayed open, until the pain threatened to overwhelm and oblivion loomed. But,

"What am I?"

The question refused to be unspoken, even while the seductive darkess wove promises of surcease around him. Forcing his arms from his body, he reached out and reached further, rawly, urgently, with the tiny seed of hope that refused to leave the place of devastation. He touched bedrock. He clutched it desperately, and closed his body around it. All at once, the cuts on his limbs announced their presence, and called him friend, comrade and brother.

"Abarai Renji," he whispered. And anchored himself with unbreakable bonds to the bedrock of self. He slumped against the ground, muscles screaming from pain, shock and exhaustion.

"Good." Baboon and snake spoke together. "But can you take more?"

Renji felt his lips lift upwards. It was a weak smirk, a deeply fatigued smirk, but a smirk nonetheless. "Bring it on, baboon."

No sooner had the words left his lips than the third onslaught of pain began. Renji's back arched with the shock of it, and his vision swam. For a moment, he feared that he would finally plunge into unconsciousness, despite having already borne successfully all the agony of the previous two episodes. Yet, it had become a familiar pain, and gingerly, inch by inch, he allowed himself to sink into it and learn its lineaments. It lashed at him sharply, and he frowned. For a moment, it had felt like reiatsu, raging, uncontrolled, raw power that needed to be chained. He concentrated, and caught the sensation of another whipping.

It reminded him of a time when he had been struggling to master Zabimaru's shikai, and the merciless whip had caught him in his immature control, again and again, gouging his skin, leaving welts that remained for days, despite the best efforts of the Fourth Division healers. And this was his inner world, the place of his origin as a shinigami, which he had blighted because he had held it with insufficient will.

When the next round of pain made a pass around his body, he was prepared. He skimmed off pain as if it were a tangible substance and submitted it to his control. Kidou was not his strong suit, but here in his own world, he was both lord and commander, and what he had collected coiled responsively beneath his palm. Layer by layer, he whittled it down, layer by layer, he overlaid each succeeding one over each preceding one, until it was entirely harnessed by his will. Then, he released it into the ground, not violently like a hado spell, but in such gentle degree that he himself was surprised at the fineness of his control.

He felt the ground pulse slowly in response, and when nothing remained in his hands, the flow reversed, and his own reiatsu with its distinctive, warm signature filled him, carrying not pain but comfort, soothing his wounds, then ebbing away, and returned again in a larger wave that removed his exhaustion and filled him with warmth.

With each pass and return, the flow smoothened out, became denser, increased in weight, and built sensation in his body, until warmth shifted to desire, and every muscle tightened in the expectation of pleasure, his abdomen, his thighs trembling with the effort to ward off too hasty a climax. With each cycling of reiatsu between his body and the ground, his shaft grew more turgid, pink yielding to red, which became suffused with purple.

Each time, the tide of reiatsu pushed more insistently against the boundaries of his senses, until the pleasure finally overflowed all restraints and brought him to an impossible peak, the orgasm arcing through his body, his semen splattering the ground in hard, urgent sprays. It was, when his mind finally deigned to consider the matter, the first release untouched by guilt, sorrow or pain since he had been summoned into his taichou's body. On that thought, he fell asleep.

When he awoke, Zabimaru was curled, warm and furry, against his back.

"Welcome back, Renji."

Renji felt the words as a deep thrum through his chest. He brought his hand up and felt thin, healed scars over his breast, then looked down at his arms and legs and found the same.

"Look around you."

He raised his head and gazed up at the sky. The lightning storm had abated, and while he could still hear the crackle and crash of falling forest, the clouds, though heavy and dark, did not carry the ominous promise of imminent destruction. The more daring of the sun's rays had even sneaked their way between them. Around him, the forest remained empty, but on several trees verdant buds had appeared, heralding the return of life, and tracks of grass led from the clearing into the forest. The clearing itself was restored to its former condition, with the addition of scarlet and white flowers that dotted the green in patterns that resembled the markings he and Zabimaru shared.

Curious, he plucked a flower and sniffed it. It bore the sharp tang of blood, or perhaps ozone, underlain with a rich earthiness that seduced Renji into languor. It was his essence, he realized, and a wry smile touched his lips. The blood was well and good, but the sex- he had never thought of himself in that way.

"It was not for nothing that Kuchikk Byakuya permitted you use of his body," said Zabimaru drily.

Renji chuckled hollowly. The pain still remained, but it no longer overrode all thought. "Don't forget the hero-worship, since he won't admit the love."

"There's also your packaging. I'd do you myself if I weren't a zanpakutou."

Renji's head swerved around and he stared for a long moment at his soul companion. "I'm not sure what's more disturbing, finding out after all these decades that you actually have a sense of humour, or hearing you joke about sex," he said flatly.

His nue turned his back. "Meditate then, and stop chattering."

Renji looked inquiring at the white furry head. "Meditate?" It was an unusual piece of counsel from trigger-happy Zabimaru.

The nue shot a pugnacious look over its shoulder. "What do you think? You've just rebuilt our home, but there's a long way to go. You need to figure out the major nodes of reiatsu in here, and to shore up weaknesses."

"Ah. Ha." Renji settled into lotus position, feeling the grass form a comfortable seat beneath his bare buttocks. He sank deep into his awareness, and felt the world close around him as his reiatsu flared in welcome, warm and cocooning as the pelt of his bankai.

When he emerged from his trance, he was once again in his barrack rooms. Morning light danced mistily behind the white curtains Rukia had insisted he put up, and birdsong trembled on the still air. The daily roar of the compound had not yet begun, though very soon the night shift would end, and the morning officially commence.

'I will return more often, Zabimaru,' he whispered. He unclenched his fist, and stared down in bemusement at the red and white flower in his palm.

'A trophy,' said Zabimaru in his mind, 'for your pain and joy.'

He stroked his fingers lightly over the petals, then laid it carefully down on a low table and stood up. During the eon of time that he had spent in his inner world, in struggle, in ecstasy, in meditation, decisions that once gave such anguish suddenly uncloaked themselves in all their simplicity.

A long, luxurious soak later, his hair clean and shining and braided, his uniform creased where it should be and smooth otherwise, Renji stood in the Thirteenth Division, fielding the attentions of its rambunctious Third Seats.

"Taichou's up early this morning, he's chatting with Rukia-chan now! I'll check with him!" Kiyona assured him.

"No, I'll check, he needs me to bring in his tea now!" insisted Sentaro. "You, go do your proper work!"

"Announcing guests is my proper work, you idiot!" shot back Kiyone. "Anyway, since I'm going in anyway, I'll bring his tea too!"

Sentaro puffed up indignant, but further argument was forestalled by Rukia calling out, "Kiyone-san, Sentaro-san, Taichou says to send Renji in!"

With a grateful inner sigh to Rukia, and a reminder to himself to get the Chappy wristguard she had been eyeing wistfully, Renji drew open the door, bowed and entered. Ukitake Taichou and Rukia were kneeling around a low table, tea cups and light snacks laid out before them. The latter gave him a little wave as he seated himself in seiza position at Ukitake's command, then prepared to leave. Renji placed a hand on her shoulder, "No, Rukia, don't go. It has to do with you as well."

He looked over at Ukitake. "If that is fine with Ukitake Taichou." Ukitake Taichou nodded, the smile on his face fading.

Renji placed his hands on the floor in front of him, and repeated the words his mind had rehearsed ever since he had woken up that morning, stark and without recourse to polite niceties. "Ukitake Taichou. I have not yet spoken to Taichou about this, but I would like to transfer to the Thirteenth Division as your fukutaichou. I know that Rukia is probably your first choice, but I hope we can come to some accommodation." He bowed deeply, to offset the abruptness of his words, then raised his head to await Ukitake Taichou's reaction, ignoring Rukia's loud gasp of shock.

Ukitake Taichou's eyes were shards of edged brown glass. "May I ask your reason for this request?" In a blink, he had transformed from the easygoing favourite uncle-at-large into a senior taichou of the Gotei 13.

Renji answered with as much truth as was possible for him to reveal. "Kuchiki Taichou has offered to adopt me into the Kuchiki clan as Rukia's husband, and if I am appointed Taichou in the future, to support my nomination as the head of a major cadet branch."

Ukitake Taichou's eyebrows elevated above his widened eyes. Perhaps he had not expected this degree of honesty from Renji, or was curious that such an offer was the grounds for Renji's transfer request. Rukia, on the other hand, had gone entirely mute from disbelief. Renji smirked slightly as he looked at her. "Don't worry, Rukia, you're my sister, I'm not going to hitch myself to you. I'm waiting to bond with my brother-in-law over his violent squirt of a wife."

Insults worked better than sugared tea to bring Rukia out of a shock. Her brows drew together wrathfully, and Renji's still tender scars winced at the likeness between the Kuchiki siblings.

"Rukia."

Rukia subsided under Ukitake Taichou's level tone, but her eyes promised purple retribution. Renji returned his attention to Ukitake Taichou and spoke with all the earnestness he was presently capable of. "I will refuse Taichou's offer, but I cannot continue to serve as his fukutaichou. Taichou's not the sort to make an empty offer, but it won't be comfortable. It wouldn't be a problem if it were only that, but while Taichou would never promote someone he thought unworthy, I'm afraid others will suspect some sort of nepotism if this becomes known."

"You're an idiot, Renji!" burst out Rukia heatedly, before Ukitake Taichou could reply. "Isn't it your dream to follow Nii-sama? isn't surpassing him your goal? And now that you're actually working well with him, why should you care about feeling embarrassed or what people will say? That's never stopped you before!" Rukia slammed a fist down on the tatami, and looked ready to punch Renji himself. Then she caught herself and looked apologetically at her Taichou.

Renji forced himself into a heated response, the kind she expected from him to know that all was well between them. "What do you know, Rukia? Don't tell me the Kuchiki clan doesn't pay attention to petty gossip, because this concerns the honour of the clan, and Taichou will live and die for that!"

Rukia flinched, and Renji wondered if he had overplayed his hand. But his best friend merely said, "Oh," and bowed her head.

"I see," murmured Ukitake Taichou, and as Renji gazed into the brown depths, it seemed as if Ukitake Taichou did indeed penetrate all the lesser truths he had spoken to the greater truth he had to conceal. The hard eyes held his, and Renji faced the probing look with all the fragile peace he had so painfully acquired. Ukitake Taichou appeared to be immersed in some kind of internal calculation, and weight of his reiatsu-laden gaze bore down on Renji and summoned all his resources. The Renji of yesterday, his inner connections sundered, could not have stood the scrutiny, which seemed to note every freshly repaired fracture in his soul.

"I see," repeated Ukitake Taichou again, and the brown gaze warmed. Renji almost slumped, but recalled his posture in time.

Ukitake Taichou's next question was asked in a mild tone, merely tinged with a hint of curiosity. "But you have sworn to surpass Kuchiki Taichou, Abarai-kun. If you do not keep him within your sights but serve with me, what will happen to that vow?"

Renji's chest tightened. Ukitake Taichou had not yet rejected him out of hand. He rubbed his head and sorted through the welter of thoughts that rushed onto his tongue. "Yes, Ukitake Taichou, I did. I think now... that I can't be Kuchiki Taichou. I worshipped Kuchiki Taichou's beauty and adulated his strength stubbornly for five decades. But his strength is his duty, and mine lies elsewhere. I'm not like Ichigo, who has to protect everybody. All I want is to fight beside my comrades and friends, and hope that they will allow me to fight beside them. We've all seen how you believe in your friends and subordinates, and how you fight for your convictions, in the right time and with the right amount of force, and how you trust that others will play their parts. I want to learn how to do that."

Ukitake Taichou sighed. "That is experience, Abarai-kun, painfully acquired." Then his gaze sharpened again. "Will you then discard one paragon of strength for another, and now set your sights on me over Kuchiki Byakuya?"

Renji's stomach dipped at the unexpected question. "No, no, Ukitake Taichou, I didn't mean that," he stammered. Dismayed at his unsteadiness, he took a deep breath. "I respect you, Ukitake Taichou, but I don't put you on a pedestal. Besides," he continued thoughtfully, "I don't think you'll allow me to do that. You'll just let me do what I have to do."

He looked steadily at Ukitake Taichou, who was looking thoughtful in turn.

"If I do not accept your transfer, where will you go?" Ukitake Taichou's next question showed his acknowledgment that Renji would not return to the Sixth Division.

"Zaraki Taichou will always take me back, and I'll probably be his Sixth Seat. And I know it will be a privilege to serve beside Zaraki Taichou, Fukitaichou, Madrame and Ayasegawa. I've still a lot to learn from them. On the other hand," his gaze turned steadfast, "I've grown accustomed to a fukutaichou's responsibilities, and if I am, in time, to take up a taichou's duties, there's more learning I need, in other directions." He bowed again. All the time spent sitting seiza in his taichou's company was now put to use as his muscles flowed easily into the movement.

Rukia said admonishingly, "Renji!" but Ukitake held up a hand.

"He is quite right, Rukia. We have taichou positions to fill, and it is no secret, at least among the taichous, that Abarai-kun's name heads the list of those we would like to see grow into the position. Hisagi-kun, too." He cocked his head. "Why not the Ninth Division then? Hisagi-kun is in need of a fukutaichou, and you are fast friends. Surely he counts among those you want to fight beside."

Renji hesitated, unsure how much he should say, then continued when Ukitake Taichou nodded encouragingly. The Thirteenth Division taichou was both discreet and expereinced in the handling of younger officers. He would not be unaware of Hisagi's circumstances. "Hisagi-senpai is perhaps more lost than I am. I can be his friend, but not his subordinate. Besides, the Ninth Division is his."

Ukitake Taichou smiled, his eyes warm and his expression approving. "You are a good friend. Hisagi Shuuhei will make a fine Ninth Division taichou when he no longer fears his zanpakatou. You will aid him with that, Abarai-kun." It was an order, not a request. and Renji bowed with alacrity.

"Now," he continued, "I've seen you on the battlefield and on practice grounds using your shikai and bankai, and there was that one rather memorable barehanded fight you and Ichigo-kun got into right beside my carp pond," he grinned teasingly and Renji blushed, while Rukia smirked and pounded his shoulder, "but I've never seen your kido. Can you create a light for this room? I fear it can get rather dim."

Renji nearly flung himself backwards in involuntary reaction. "Kido?" he croaked.

Ukitake Taichou nodded, though the teasing curl remained about his lips. Rukia's smirk grew larger.

"In here?" He looked around at the exquisite furnishings, some of them doubtless many times his age. There was no way Ukitake Taichou did not know of his exploding kido.

"Yes, in here," agreed Ukitake Taichou. "And no, I won't put up a protective barrier, or have anyone else put up one." He glanced at Rukia as he spoke. She blanched at his words, her smirk evaporating, but merely nodded in faint obedience. "Use Hado 33, Sokatsui," he added, "without releasing it, of course."

This time, Renji was no longer shocked by Ukitake Taichou's requests. There were no two ways about it. Ukitake Taichou had not rejected him outright, and if this was what it took to remain under consideration, then he would not walk away, even if kidou was the one area where brute force and sheer bravado could not apply. He set his shoulders and firmed his lips. Letting his breath slow, he gathered his reiatsu, and had a sudden flashback to the recent events in his inner world. A light went off in his head, and instead of forcing his overflowing reiatsu into a small sphere, he layered films of skimmed reiatsu like a cabbage from inside out as he chanted the incantation.

"How big should it be?" he asked, as he continued working. Once he understood the principle, it seemed, control came very easily. A corner of his mind cackled at the stupefied expression on Rukia's face. Now she could not longer lord her kidou advantage over him, though another part of his mind saw fit to remind him that this was just the beginning of a long period of training.

"Make it a double Sokatsui, Hado 63, Soren Soktasui," suggested Ukitake Taichou cheerfully, while Rukia merely groaned weakly. Renji nodded, then set about to remolding the incantation. The result was two very unlikely looking spheres of blue that had Ukitake Taichou's eyes brightening with mirth, but Renji was only thankful that he had held on to the bucking if mishapened horses that were his transformed hado spell.

At Ukitake Taichou's approving, "Good, Abarai-kun, you can dissolve them now," he let his reiatsu slip layer by layer back into his inner world, and heard Zabimaru rumble with pleasure. His back was cool with sweat.

Ukitake Taichou's expression was congratulatory. "Very good, Abarai-kun. This was a necessary stage for you in mastering your bankai."

Renji was astounded. "It was?"

"What did you think your Hihiou Taiho, Baboon Bone Cannon, is?" Ukitake Taichou's tone was amused, and his smile widened as Renji struck his forehead in comprehension.

"Thank you, Ukitake Taichou." Renji bowed deeply. He appeared to be making a habit of it these days.

"Call me Taichou." He chuckled as Renji's eyes widened incredulously. "I think the next few years will be very interesting. As for Rukia," he looked affectionately at his gaping subordinate, "Kuchiki Taichou's ban on her taking a seated position still stands, though with Abarai-kun in the same division, perhaps he can be persuaded to change his mind."

The next day, Kuchiki Byakuya received Renji's refusal of his offer with his usual cold and expressionless stoicism. That expression remained unchanged with Ukitake Jyuushiro's visit and their discussion of Renji's transfer. As Byakuya signed his transfer papers, Renji wondered with a pang if his leaving had deprived Byakuya of yet another source of human warmth. Then, he reminded himself that the iciness had already settled into place, and was neither augmented nor diminished with his departure. Byakuya was sole guardian of his soul, as Renji was of his.

_Postscript_. Five years later, a quorum of Taichous voted Abarai Renji Fifth Division Taichou. Kuchiki Byakuya did not cast a vote. It was not necessary.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A conversational excursion  
Characters: Ukitake, Kyouraku  
Word count: ~ 1300  
Rating: G  
Summary: This is Chapter 2 to a href="."I will make you hurt/a  
Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, not even bleach

lj-cut text= "A Conversational Excursion"  
Kyouraku Shunsui took a luxuriant sip of his sake and frowned in mock-disapproval. "Your fukutaichou is monopolizing my fukutaichou," he informed his companion.

Brown eyes sparkled. "He did ask your permission, and they are off-duty," Ukitake Jyuushiro reminded his best and oldest friend, a touch of gentle humour curving his lips.

Kyouraku pouted slightly. "Yes, but I didn't expect it to be blanket permission, and I didn't think he'd be sniffing around her all the time." His eyes slid slyly to the Thirteenth Division Taichou. "I say, Jyuushiro, can't you call off your loyal hound?"

"Loyal he may be, but Abarai-kun is certainly no dog, let alone a hound." Ukitake poured another round of sake into Kyouraku's empty and waving cup.

Kyouraku considered his sake. "No, indeed, he doesn't have the instincts of a hound-dog, for sure." He smirked lustily. "I could give him some pointers, if you like! As part of his training, you see."

"Shunsui!" The amused reprimand was accompanied by a mild eye-roll. Two thousand years of friendship made many things permissible.

Kyouraku's pout deepened. "I saw that." His voice turned wheedling. "Just let me take him in hand, Jyuu. The ladies won't know what hit them!"

Ukitake chuckled. "They certainly won't. It would be Kyouraku Taichou instead of Abarai Fukutaichou." His chuckle deepened as Kyouraku's face left off its pitiful mien and broke into his lazy grin.

"Ah, you've found me out there! As I see it, waste not, want not. After all, what would a man who prefers the romantic company of his own sex do with a female fan club?"

"What would he do indeed?" repeated Ukitake, the corners of his eyes crinkling with humour. Kyouraku grinned companionably at him and filled his tea cup. "But perhaps you are running ahead of yourself, Shunsui. Loud as he might be in other things, Abarai-kun has never been vocal concerning his preferences."

Kyouraku shrugged easily. "That's because everyone knew he was Kuchiki oriented. The amount of time and energy that boy spent figuring out what kind of man he needed to be to get Rukia-chan to turn to him and Byakuya-bo to acknowledge him, heaven knows he didn't have time for amorous pursuits. Then, the boy gets a chance to marry her and Byakuya-bo decides that he's worthy to become one of those Kuchikis, and what does he do? Have a breakdown and leave the Sixth. Obviously, Rukia-chan's not the Kuchiki his heart flutters for. Ergo, it was Byakuya all the time, and Abarai-kun is quite definitely a lover of men." His head tilted and his lips quirked. "But he's recovered quite nicely from his breakdown, I would say."

Ukitake's expression turned serious. "He is healing, I believe. He spends time off-duty with the officers of the other divisions, especially the fukutaichous, but much of his rest time is spent in meditation." His eyebrows became a severe straight line. "Byakuya has much to answer for."

Kyouraku sat up and leaned forward, the movement abrupt for one of his customary languid grace. "You have a bleeding heart, Jyuushiro, and it weeps freely for everyone, but Abarai-kun must bear part of the responsibility for what happened to him. A man whose strength is his integrity betrayed himself out of lust and misplaced emotion. What he and Byakuya were doing, he did of his own free will, that much is obvious." On one of their evening strolls, they had caught sight of the then leaders of the Sixth Division, the fukutaichou bent over his taichou spread-eagled beneath him, both men nearly fully-dressed, though their chosen activity was obvious and explicit.

Ukitake sighed. "No man is a hero in love." His voice was regretful with ancient knowledge. "They are both willful men. But I can and will fault Byakuya for his blindness and selfishness. He has always failed to see beyond Kuchiki and his own grief. That evening, you and I felt the pain in them, Abarai-kun was near breaking with it, but Byakuya, he was taking it wholesale into himself, so bloated with pain that it would turn on itself into numbness. He knew that. But no taichou of the Gotei 13 can afford to be blind and numb. Surely Aizen's plots have taught him that."

Kyouraku leaned back against the pillar behind him. "You and I, Jyuushiro, needed two millenia to learn that lesson. What makes you think Byakuya-bo can learn it in less than a century? I have no love for suffering and pain, but Abarai-kun, too, has his own mistakes to make. You can only baby him so far, as you did with Byakuya." He threw back his sake in one shot, then raised his cup in salute. "But it will be interesting to see the sum of his soul under your tutelage."

"The twins say that it's the most marvelous tropical jungle rich with all kinds of flora." Ukitake's voice was wistful and eager. A long-ago trip to the tropics in Living World had left him breathless with the vivid spectacles and warm colours. Unfortunately, it had also left him breathless from one of his more severe attacks, and Unohana had warned him against further trips into rampant humidity. "It's not surprising Abarai-kun wants to spend so much time there."

Kyouraku's eyebrows shot upwards. "They've been there?" He knew that inner worlds were immensely private places, even among the zanpakutou, most zanpakutou preferring to meet on the common grounds that were huge swathes of public spaces linked to the inner worlds where the zanpakatou resided. Abarai Renji might be Ukitake's fukutaichou, but it was a recent appointment, and they were just beginning to learn about each other in relative intimacy.

"No, they heard about it from Sode no Shirayuki. Apparently, the twins like Zabimaru's fur and tail a little too much for his comfort and he refuses to allow them free rein in his home." Ukitake chuckled. The childish and effeversent energy of his zanpakatou was fatiguing even for the hardiest of shinigami or zanpakatou.

"Pushy little buggers, aren't they?" Kyouraku's chuckles joined Ukitake's. "I'm glad you got the twins, and I, the girls. My girls make me wonderfully delighted. Well, woman and girl," he corrected, in response to the sharp internal rap Katen Kyoukotsu gave him with her fan. Then his eyes drooped soulfully, "But I wish my third girl were here, by my side, rather than with your errant fukutaichou."

"He was recently voted hottest man in Soul Society." Ukitake reminded his friend. "And you did say it would do Ise-san good to be seen in the company of the man who has become the stalking point of half the women in Soul Society now."

Kyouraku's eyes drooped even more pitifully. "What's the problem with women? A man changes a little, and they immediately imagine a tragedy in his life and find him infinitely more attractive and mysterious. Really, if Byakuya-bo, for one, weren't a widower and insist on living out his widowerhood tragically, he would be downright boring to the ladies." His voice acquired a put-upon and indignant whine. "And they're now saying that Ise Nanao has thrown over Kyouraku Taichou for Abarai Renji, and no one believes me when I tell them she's teaching him kido! Kido! When she's so wonderfully good at it! I blame Urahara! He and his secret, impenetrable training caves! And Abarai- kun too! His kido was so bad no one actually believes he would want to work on it!"

Ukitake's lips curved upwards. "Then you'll just have to wait till Abarai-kun performs some successful and high-level kidou in public and convinces the naysayers."

Kyouraku pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try to get him into a fight as soon as possible." He tipped the brim of his hat downwards. "Ah, it's too fine a day to think. By the way, my dear Jyuushiro, could you ask Rukia-chan to have Kurosaki-kun over at his earliest convenience?"

"Shunsui!"  
/lj-cut


End file.
